


We All Go A Little Mad Sometimes

by JustinStar, RigorMorton



Category: American Horror Story: Hotel
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Boys Kissing, Drinking, Drunk Sex, Ghost Sex, Hand Jobs, John Embraces His Dark Side, M/M, Male Slash, Rough Sex, Strangulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 07:31:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7213432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustinStar/pseuds/JustinStar, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RigorMorton/pseuds/RigorMorton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Lowe has been an emotional wreck since his son's disappearance. Six months later, he falls off the wagon again and pays another visit to the Hotel Cortez. </p><p>He roams the halls of the grand hotel, catching the eye, of the ghostly and murderous owner,James Patrick March.</p><p>The psychopathic apparition, takes a liking to the somber detective. He see's something in him - a dark side that John himself doesn't even know he has.</p><p>March makes it his duty to lure the grieving man into his trap. Not to kill him, but to make him his predecessor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We All Go A Little Mad Sometimes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> I came across a Tumblr post from sexydeatheater, wondering why nobody ships March and Lowe. Good question. So I thought, why not? And decided to write one. 
> 
> The talented Justin Star roleplayed this with me. He as March and me as detective Lowe.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy this one ;)

James Patrick March had met John Lowe a few months ago, and had bought him a drink at the bar. A little talking had revealed very little, before John had expressed he needed to go home.

March hasn't exactly been waiting to see him again, but he does know he WOULD. And sure enough here he stands at the top of the balcony overlooking the lobby. The sight of the beautiful man, makes March's eyes widen. Ah, yes. John Lowe is back. And this time, March will not let him go so easily. Dinner, drinks, and possibly more.…. March can seduce the man into whatever he wants him to do. That's part of his charm and exactly what he plans to do. The eccentric hotel owner, has his sights set on John.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John has been roaming the halls of the beautiful hotel, for a few hours now. Bars are so loud and over crowded. The detective decided a hotel's atmosphere would be much more relaxing. Especially the beautiful Hotel Cortez - so regal and full of history. He finds himself in awe of it's old timey beauty. Even after all these years, it still has the scent of vintage- an age long since forgotten by most, or certainly unappreciated. His eyes linger on the chandelier, grand and full of regal splendor. Even the small bits of dust can't hide the old world shine.

In spite of the fresh coat of paint that decorated the walls, they still manage to somehow hold the strength of their day. John runs his fingers up and down their smooth sides, imagining all the things these walls must have seen and heard ; the famous leading men , the screen darlings, the captains of industry, the "kings and queens" of an era foreign to him.

He appreciates that there are more than history in these walls: there are stories. Tales of lost love, betrayal, infidelity, secrecy. Oh if these walls could talk, they could record audio books into the double digits and well worth the price.

This really is the perfect place for him to unwind and try and forget about everything going on at home.

John decides he better head back to the bar. He's technically not supposed to leave the bar area with his drink, but figures he won't be tackled by security over it. Especially since his glass is empty and has been for some time - another reason for him to return to the bar. 

March watches him, observes the man, walking through his hotel and touching everything, seeming to be lost in thought. He can't help but smirk at that. The hotel had been kept up because March had wanted it that way. Sure, it was old. Hell, he had built the damned thing in the 1920s, it just pleases him -strokes his ego a bit, to see men and women still fawning over the creation he had made. Now, to start the game. He sits down at an empty table in the empty bar - fingers drumming impatiently.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The detective exits the elevator, empty tulip glass in hand and makes his way through the lobby and into the bar. It's a very quiet night at the Hotel Cortez. Only a handful of people at the bar tonight, which is just how he likes it.

He walks by a patron that stands out above the rest, not just because of his sharp attire, but because he seems so familiar….

As the man walks up into the bar, March's eyes meet with the lovely Liz Taylor's. A look that's dangerous, but a look that Liz knows. 

She addresses the handsome detective."Your tab has been picked up for the evening. Anything you'd like is on the house, courtesy of the owner of the hotel." She smiles, pointing at March sitting a few feet away. "What were you drinking, sir? Something fancy and strong, like the man you appear to be?" She flirts. Liz knows how this game works. 

John smiles shyly - his cheeks turning just a bit red at the brazen flirtations the lovely barmaid throws his way. "Scotch." He chuckles softly, looking over his shoulder at the very interesting man, sitting alone.

Liz smiles pouring the man his drink. She hands it to the detective with a closed lip smile and a wink - March watching and smirking as the other looks at him. Now, to lure him in. He raises his glass of Brandy, a toast to the other, before taking a sip.

John smirks and raises his own glass, giving March a nod, before placing the glass to his lips and feeling the burn of the rich alcohol coat his throat. He walks toward the other man, slowly approaching his table with a friendly smile.

The detective didn't come here to socialize, but what harm could it do to say hello to the man that was nice enough to buy him expensive drinks.

James watches as the other's walking toward him. He raises an eyebrow, a smile on his face as the handsome man approaches his table.

"Thank you." John smiles and raises his glass once more. "This is a good year." The detective refers to the perfectly aged scotch in his glass. "Maybe the best I've had." 

"Ah, you like it, do you? I've got plenty more where that came from. Please, feel free to enjoy." March extends a hand to the empty chair across from him.  
John takes the hint and slides the chair out, taking a seat.

"I've been watching you walk around my hotel this evening. You look like you need it. Something on the mind?" The hotel owner cocks a curious brow, before taking another swig of his brandy.

John holds his glass to his lips, pausing before taking a quick sip. "Well…" He chuckles. "What isn't on my mind, really?" A rhetorical question, he asks, looking down at his drink, watching it swirl around in his glass.

He looks back up and clears his throat, realizing he's being a weirdo. "Sorry. I'm not with it tonight." He chuckles softly again. "Your hotel is really beautiful, mister….?"

"March." The hotel owner replies. "James Patrick March. And please, I assure you, there's much more of this hotel that you haven't seen. Places only I have a key to." He says wiggling a brow and sipping from his glass. 

John looks at March through squinted eyes, swirling his drink around as he studies the eccentric man carefully. He's not positive what to make of this March fellow. Really friendly? Or hitting on him…

 

"So, you'll meet me in Room sixty four in about a half hour for supper and a real drink, hmm? Then a tour." He holds a hand up. "And I'm not taking no for an answer." March wastes no time, cutting to the chase.

The detective swallows hard and presses his lips together, nervously. "Well…uh..that's quite a friendly gesture, mister March." He takes another swig of his drink. "How does a simple man like me, get chosen for such a special tour?"

March leans forward, a finger swirling in his drink as he looks the other up and down. "You've got a certain... Darkness about you." He grins widely. "A darkness which I'm quite fond of, in most instances. I can recognize it. You're just like me." He smirks.

"Now, If you'll excuse me…." March starts before standing up. "I'll be heading upstairs to prepare everything for your arrival. Until then, Mister...?" He holds out a hand.

John looks up at the mysterious man, still trying to figure him out. This guy, is certainly something else. The detective realizes he's being spoken to. "Oh…" He shakes his head, snapping back to reality. "Lowe." He takes March's hand to shake it. "John Lowe."

"Well, Mister John Lowe, I shall see you in my room in a half hour. Your tab is taken care of, so please, have another drink." March smiles cheerfully as he lets go of the other's hand, and sonters out of the bar.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Upstairs, the table is set, and the March is changing into something a bit more upscale, before enjoying a cigarette as he waits for the other.

James is a cocky man - always has been. Of course with his history of being a charismatic and charming man, he has reason to be confident.

He knows the other man will show. They always do…

~~~~~~~~~~~

John paces the floor of the lobby - his glass empty once again, feeling nervous about March's proposition. 

He's been through so much, these past few months after the disappearance of his son. The detective can't remember the last time, he'd actually had fun - done something for him. Why not have a nice dinner and conversation with a new friend? What could it hurt? Certainly nothing.

John sets his empty glass down on a table near by, and heads up to March's room.

A short elevator ride has him up on the hotel owner's floor. He finds the room pretty quickly and stands outside it a moment - feeling butterflies in his stomach, as he raises a fist and knocks lightly.

March checks his pocket watch after what seems like an eternity, which is funny coming from him, and is pleased to see the other knocks right on the dot. 

He answers the door, smiling. "John, my boy! You're right on time. Supper is just about to be served. Come, sit!! May I get you a drink?"

This March fellow sure is chipper. John finds it kind of refreshing. Being a detective, he deals with a lot of gloom and doom. He could use a little cheer in his life.

The detective smiles and steps inside - eyes doing a quick scan of the lavish room. He smiles and nods, following March to the dining table. 

"I've had two already, but….I suppose one more can't hurt." He shrugs, taking a seat in a very antique looking table chair. "What's for dinner, if I may ask?"

March fixes him a Scotch, and himself a Brandy, handing the glass to John and taking a seat across from him. The absinthe can wait until later.

"Filet Mignon, asparagus, and white rice. I hope you're a meat eater." He smiles. 

"Oh wow." John lifts his glass and smirks before taking a sip of his refreshed drink. "That sounds far better than the greasy diner food, I planned to have after this." He chuckles.

"I don't eat outside of my hotel very much. I don't eat greasy diner food. Only the best and freshest food. The most expensive. I live my life in luxury. Nothing less than the best."

 

"Tell me, John…why do you look so down, hmm?"

The detective looks down at his drink - a somber and sad look on his face. He thought he was acting pretty normal but apparently the sadness he thought was fading, is still visible.

"Well… I don't really like to talk about it, but… I'll answer your question if you answer mine." He lifts his drink back up to his lips, cocking a brow at March.

"I'm an open book to you, John. Please, keep that in mind." March smiles warmly.

John nods, setting his drink down and leaning back with his arms crossed. "Why'd you invite me up here, mister March? Not that I'm being ungrateful. Just curious."

March knew that's where this was going. In truth, to talk to him - see where his mind is. If he likes him, he'll keep him around. Otherwise, Miss Evers will have some sheets to clean later.

"Quite honestly, I'm very attracted to you, John. You have a dark aura around you. I've been able to see them ever since I can remember. And yours is jet black. I was curious, so I invited you to my personal room to meet the dark man who stepped foot into my hotel."

John's eyes grow wide at the other man's blatant confession. He kind of figured that's what all this was about, but expected some tiptoeing around it.

He feels his cheeks flush with red and quickly takes a big gulp of his Scotch - finishing every last drop.

The detective clears his throat nervously. "Dark aura huh…me?" He can't help but laugh at the thought. John had always thought of himself as boring. He's incredibly flattered.

"Yes. Dark as a night at sea. It isn't a bad thing, oh no. It only means that you have some sort of past that you keep letting repeat. Some sort of anger and angst trapped within." March shrugs. 

"So tell me, why is that?" He asks, starting to walk around the room.

John looks down at his empty glass, running his fingertip over the rim. "My son disappeared six months ago. I haven't gotten a decent night's sleep since, and I think my wife hates me." He looks up and shrugs. "Now I'm off the wagon and just trying to get through every excruciating day, the best I can." 'I bet he wishes he hadn't asked.' The detective thinks to himself.

March stops in his tracks and listens. He nods slowly, setting his glass down as he walks behind John. "I'm quite sorry to hear that. But your wife must know it isn't your fault? You're drinking to throw the anger to the side. You mustn't do that. Bottle it down."

"I suppose." John presses his lips together, drifting off into space for a moment - painful memories creeping back in. "I don't want to talk about this anymore." He shifts in his seat, expecting to feel hands on his shoulders any second. The thought makes him nervous and excited at the same time. 

March does exactly that, hands on John's shoulders, pinching and rubbing, massaging. "You know, I lost my ex wife. She left me, and now she won't talk to me. We never had any kids. Nobody to carry on my legacy. How sad is that?" He asks. "But, your wife is a hell of a woman if she does not see the man in front of her." He whispers.

John's lips curl up into a smile. The other's touch feels even better than he thought it would. The compliment does not go unappreciated either. Despite living with his wife and daughter, the detective has been so lonely for what feels like forever now.

"Apparently our wives have something in common."He places his hand on March's and squeezes lightly, running his index finger over the other's knuckles. 

"You feel alone. You go to work every day to try and fill some sort of void, a void by acting social. But you don't care about those people." March continues kneading his hands into John's shoulders. "You need something so bad inside, it's animalistic. You need to belong to someone, hmm?" He responds, knowing he hit the nail on the head.

John squints his eyes, listening carefully to the eccentric man's words. He'd never really thought about it like that. Yes, he's aware of his empty void, but hasn't the slightest clue how to fill it. He just knows he's been unsuccessful. "Maybe you're right. I never thought of it that way." He swallows thickly, continuing to squeeze the warm hand on his shoulder.

"I think you need to try something a bit different, John Lowe. I think you need a change of scenery. A change of direction..." He whispers, kissing the side of his neck. "Hmm? Yes.. That's what you need. What you desire."

John's eyes close and his stomach flutters when March's lips caress his flesh. He releases a long pleased sigh, gently running his fingers through the other's pomaded hair. "That's exactly right." He turns, looking up over his shoulder at the other man. "What do you suggest, mister March?"

"I suggest Absinthe. The Green Fairy, as its known through popular culture." March says, walking away from the other man for just a second to get both glasses filled and made properly. He then hands a glass to John. "To a change in direction." He holds his glass up.

John takes the glass and places it under his nose. He's heard of this concoction, but never had an opportunity to try it.

He breathes in deep, exploring the smell carefully before tasting it. It's strong and sweet smelling - a hint of floral. The detective holds it up, toasting with March. "To change in direction." He wraps his lips around the rim of his glass and takes a small experimental sip, smacking his lips together at the strong, licorice taste.

John cocks a brow and takes another small sip. "Not bad." He chuckles.

"Glad you enjoy it." March starts to walk circles behind the handsome detective. "Usually, absinthe is an illegal beverage in the United States, and is served without the wormwood, because of the hallucinations most claim to have after drinking it, but if you know where to order it from, or make it like I do, well….. it makes life just that much better." He takes a sip of his drink, watching mister Lowe carefully. "So, are you still hungry for supper? Or shall we take our tour?" 

John ponders for a moment, taking another sip of the green concoction. Life is short. He can eat anytime. However it's not every day a handsome, debonair hotel owner offers a private tour of his five star hotel. "Let's take the tour. If that's alright." John smiles flirtingly, his lips wrapping around his glass once again.

March nods. "Of course it is!! That's why I offered." He says and offers a hand to help the other up. "Come. We have much to see. Much to discuss. I'd like to show you all of my... Hidden treasures... In this hotel." He smirks darkly.

"Sounds great." The detective sets his glass down on the table and takes March's hand. What an interesting night this is turning out to be. Far different than the drink alone at a quiet bar, he was expecting. This however is not a bad thing.

"Bring your glass. Let me..." He changes his mind, taking it and refilling both to the top, before handing his drink back. "So, what have you heard about my wonderful Hotel Cortez? There has to be a reason you chose to stay here, hmm?"

"You know, mister March…there's no need to get me drunk." John chuckles and takes the glass from the other man. "I actually don't have a room. I just wanted a quiet place to have a drink. Hotel bars are good for that and your hotel provides quite a lovely setting."

"I'm not trying to get you drunk. Mister Lowe. John, if I may, I'm only providing entertainment as the good host I am. Now, please, what shall we see, first? Perhaps the penthouse?" He asks.

John laughs into his drink, taking a small sip. "If you say so." He smirks and shakes his head. "Yes. Penthouse. Seems like you can't go wrong with that one." He raises his glass and takes another quick little sip. He's starting to feel a little buzzed and would prefer to not get shit faced. He'd better pace himself.

"Right. My ex wife lives in the penthouse, but her and her current lover are out of town. I don't think she will mind much if we explore up there, hmm? Come." He presses the button for the elevator.

The ex wife comment immediately catches John's attention. He looks at the other man, an interested smirk on his face. 'This guy's taking me to "explore" in his ex wife's room? I kinda like him.' He chuckles to himself. "You're ex wife's room." He clears his throat. "Alright. Let's go explore."

"Yes, Elizabeth. She and I really aren't exactly on the best of terms. But, its my hotel, dammit!! So, I will show you the rooms that I built. That room is an exquisite one, I must say." He says and presses the button for the top floor. 

John nods and gives a shrug. "Well, you two must not hate each other too badly." He swallows another sip. "You live in the same building, after all." He leans up against the elevator wall. He's starting to feel a little lightheaded from his buzz. It's a nice feeling though.

March moves closer to John, shrugging back. "We don't hate each other. Well, I don't hate her. She hates me. But... Details, details... Are you feeling okay? You look a bit Ill." He asks.

"Hmmm?" John asks, absent mindedly. "Oh.." He shakes his head. "I'm fine. Just.. Buzzing a bit." The detective smiles warmly. He's feeling pretty good about now. Better than he remembers feeling in a long time.

March nods, moving closer to run his lips over the others jaw to whisper in his ear. "That's the trick of it. Absinthe is quite strong, strong enough to give hallucinations. Although you haven't had enough for that. Just enough to bend your mind to my will. Come, shall we?" He opens the gate and leads them into the penthouse.

March's lips ghosting over his his skin, makes John swallow thickly. He's not even worried about the 'bend to my will part.' Nope. He feels too good right now. 

It takes every bit of strength he has to force himself off the wall to follow the other into the room. The detective staggers over to the huge bed and throws himself down on it, flat on his back, giggling. Surprisingly not spilling a drop of his drink.

"Wow… This place is huge. I think this bed, is bigger than my bedroom." He laughs. 

March moves to the foot of the bed to grab the others drink and set it on the bedside table along with his, before joining him on the bed, crawling on top of him to straddle him. "So, I mentioned going a different direction. Is that still what you want?"

John nods smiling softly. He's a bit out of it, but lucid enough to realize what's happening. He really can't remember the last time he's had a warm body on top of his own. It's nice. He's nervous though even through his buzz. The detective's never been with a man before. Although he was never opposed. He just never had the opportunity. He settled down at an early age and had never sewed his wild oats so to speak.

March takes the others smile as a go. And even if he had said no, well, John isn't really in a place to try to escape anyway. March groans and pushes the others jacket off, ripping his shirt open without a care about where the buttons flew to. John is his, and his alone in this moment.

John feels a tingle in between his legs when his shirt is ripped apart. No one's ever done that. He's only seen it in the movies. He licks his lips and musters the strength to pull March down, closer to him, by his shirt. He playfully flicks his tongue out, giving a quick tease to just the surface of the other man's lips, grinning wide eyed.

March smirks, helping the other by taking off his own jacket, tie, and unbuttoning his shirt to toss it away. He is here to please John, to keep him coming back for more. John is important, he just isn't sure how or why. Just a feeling. He moves to kiss the other hard, licking into his mouth and moaning as he grinds down against John's groin.

The detective watches March closely as he's shedding his clothing. He bites his lip, feeling his cock twitch at the sight of him. The anticipation is so exciting. John feels like he's doing something he's not supposed to and well… He IS. 

The other's lips meet his own and he opens his mouth, more than happy to let March's tongue inside. He's instantly reminded how good it feels to kiss someone passionately. It'd been a while. Sure he and his wife gave each other those quick little hello and goodbye pecks, but that's just not good enough. 

The warm tongue washing over his, is just what he needs. The other's groin rubbing against his, makes him moan into the other's mouth - his hand caressing the side of March's face.

March knows what the other needs. Its evident. He needs this. To be fucked. To be dominated. And March is just the one to do it. He pulls away to run his hands over the others chest, feeling the body he'd be fucking in just a minute. "You need this, you know. You need to let go, let someone else take control. So, let go for me John. You're mine for the time being."

"I do." John pants out, nodding his head. His hands trail down the sides of March's ribcage. What started as a mere tingle in his pants is now a full on erection and he holds back from bucking his hips up to frott against the other's groin. Instead, he's patient, wanting to give himself to his new lover.

March feels the other's fingers on his skin, making him want him even more. "I'm going to take your pants off now." He says, unbuttoning and sliding the John's pants and undergarments off, before doing the same to himself, now exposed to John.

John nods and lifts his hips up to allow March to slide his pants down. He shutters at the feeling of the material caressing his skin on the way down his thighs. The detective always found something so sensual about that.

He can't remember the last time he'd been naked in front of anyone other than his wife. Luckily March is as naked as him moments later and he no longer feels so on display.

John bites his lip and places his hands on the other's waist, kneading his thumbs over March's hip bones.

March is a little bigger than the other man. He smirks at the thought. The man always was an egomaniac, even in death. Not that John is lacking in the size department. 

March leans into the other's touch, as Johns thumbs on his hips making him grin. 

"Have you ever been taken by a man?" March asks, his hands roaming down over the other's striking physique. John really is a beautiful man. And built for sin. March wants to be in him now - wants to take him for himself.

John shakes his head, looking up into March's eyes. "No." He gulps, starting to really feel his nerves. Perhaps he's coming down off his buzz. He has no intentions on stopping though. His cock is painfully hard and at this point, his own hand would just not suffice. The detective craves another's touch - to touch someone else. It's in our nature.

March moves to lick his hand slowly, wrapping it around John and pumping him slowly, teasing him, eyes staring into John's as he provides just a small taste of what he is capable of. 

"I'm going to fuck you, John. I do not make love. I do not have sexual intercourse. I fuck. And I'm going to fuck you. Because you need it, and because I desire it. And what I want, I get. Do you understand?" He asks.

John's really in no position to argue. That wicked hand sliding up and down his cock so nicely, has him panting and writhing. He just nods, eyes squinted shut, mouth hanging open. "Yes, yes. Go right ahead." He manages to pant out. So, it may be a little painful. Big deal. He's certain it's only temporary and he needs to do something fun and crazy for once in his life. The detective's always had a bit of a dark side that usually lays dormant. Maybe it's time he embrace it.

"I don't even think I need to prep you. I don't think so, no." March nods his head. Sure he likes John, but he's still a sadistic son of a bitch.. Do you want my cock right now? Hmm?" He scrapes his nails down the other man's chest, hurting him however he knows how. He'll go easy for the moment, but just for the moment.

John hisses at the feel of March's nails scratching down his flesh. It burns but is also enjoyable - pain with a little hint of euphoria. His cock twitches again making him whine softly. He's painfully hard and ready to take it up a notch. "Just fuck me." He pants out.

"Splendid" March drawls out, lips curling into a smile as he spits in his hand and runs it over his cock, spreading the others thighs. "Put your legs up. Right here." He lifts them onto his shoulders, looking at John's hole and lining himself up, before sinking into the other in one quick thrust - not hesitating, hissing at the heat and tightness of the handsome detective.

John doesn't even have time to process what's happening. In the blink of an eye he's being filled with March's cock. He winces feeling the burn of the stretch. The appendage is already all the way up inside him, but the sting still lingers. It's probably not going anywhere for a few minutes, but the hard part is over. 

His fingers curl into the sheets underneath him as he throws his head back groaning. He closes his eyes tightly trying to concentrate on relaxing.

March digs his nails into the others thighs, not giving a single thought before he's pulling out and thrusting back in quickly, groaning at the tightness. "Fuck!!! John Lowe, you're so tight. Your ass is mine, and mine alone. It is mine for the taking, isn't it?" He asks, exemplifying by giving a few hard thrusts. "I should have tied you up. Next time, I think I will. Makes you more vulnerable."

John arches his back, groaning. March is rough and relentless with his thrusts. The other's cock runs up and down his inner walls, fast and hard. It still has a pretty big sting to it, but the pleasure is there lingering in the background. More apparent when the other bumps his prostate here and there. "Yes….yes." He groans out in panty breaths.

"You enjoy this, don't you?" March growls - a hand moving to John's throat, squeezing around it as he fucks him, smirking. "I can choke you. I can bite you and fuck you. Make you mine in any way I want, and all you'll want is me. You won't care how." He barks out. "This is what you need." He repeats, choking harder and bumping his groin roughly against the detective's cock skewered ass.

John has just enough time to nod, before a hand is closing in on his throat, squeezing tight enough to make him flinch. He can still breathe but he feels light headed. 

His hand latches onto March's forearm - a reflex of having his air supply lessoned. The detective struggles for a moment but as he starts to relax, he realizes the lack of oxygen heightens his pleasure. The tingle in his rear has become more apparent and the pain, fading more and more with every second despite the onslaught March is giving him.

March smirks as the other grabs his arm. "That's it.. Relax, let everything go away. It's you and me right now. I'm going to fucking ruin you, John Lowe." He grins wide and moves to fuck him faster and harder, thrusting right against his prostate. "Fuck!!"

The detective's hand clenches tighter to March as he's mercilessly pounded into. He feels his body sinking down further into the dipping mattress. It's hard to relax but despite that, it still feels good. His head falls back and he slips his legs down off March's shoulders and wrap around the other's hips, squeezing tightly.

March scratches at his legs, his thighs, pounding into him relentlessly. "You're mine. My toy, aren't you John?" He growls, holding his hips tight enough to leave bruises, he would leave his mark in more ways than one. His hand goes back to the other's cock, pumping him in sync to his quick thrusts.

"Yes." John hisses through gritted teeth. March stroking him, doubles his pleasure which he didn't think was possible. He can't think straight. All he can do is writhe underneath the other man, pounding him into the mattress, enjoying the pleasure at both ends - unable to tell which is better. Not as if it matters since he's getting both.

That hard cock slides up his ass, bumping his prostate as the slick warm hand runs up his shaft, almost perfectly in sync with each other. It's too much.

Warmth pools in his belly and his breath grows more erratic. A few more thrusts of March's hips and John's cock is spasming in the other's hand, spilling thick, sticky liquid over the hotel owner's still moving fingers.

March watches him, coaxing him closer to his orgasm, and once it hits and the John's hole is clenching around him, he spills into him, filling him up with a snarl. Being the psychopath that he is, he has this to grab his knife and drag it across John's throat. He wants to play in the detective's blood. But he shouldn't. He can't. He needs him.

 

The hotel owner, slowly pulls out, looking down at the mess John has made. Two of his fingers reach down and and swipe the other's cum off his inner thigh. He licks up and down his fingers to taste the gorgeous man's essence. "You taste marvelous, John." He simply says.

John lifts his head up from the pillow - his eyes wide as saucers, watching March lap up his remnants. He swallows thickly before letting his head fall back on the pillow. 

It's all so much to take in. John just had sex with someone other than his wife. A MAN! In this very moment, he feels pretty good, like a million bucks, actually. 

He should feel guilty but he feels relief. All he's had for the past six months was his hand. Which for a few months, he was fine with. The detective was too busy grieving to worry about such things. He didn't even realize how much he missed physical contact, till tonight.

March moves to kiss and nip up the other's body. Up his chest, licking and kissing, until he reaches John's lips, kissing him hard and pushing his tongue into his mouth. He pulls him into a sitting position, breaking the kiss. "Now, after that experience, I believe it is safe to say, John, that a different direction is exactly what you needed." He cracks a small smirk.

John chuckles lightly. "Yes. You are correct, mister March. He wraps his hand around the back of the other's neck, pulling him in for another kiss -soft and sensual, his thumb caressing March's cheekbone. A silent thank you for a night, he'd needed so badly.

March kisses back with enthusiasm as he's pulled closer, not wanting to let the other go. He knows he can, though. Because he knows John will be back. 

The detective pulls away slowly after a moment and presses his lips together, still tasting the handsome hotel owner. "I had a wonderful evening, but I have to go, unfortunately. My wife would worry sick and Lord knows she's been through enough grief already." 

He leans over the edge of the bed, grabbing at his pile of clothes on the floor.

"I understand. I will see you again, soon, I presume." March states, not questioning it for a second. And all he can think is that John is the one - his successor. He knows that John will need to come back, though. That's for certain.

John smiles, feeling relieved that March isn't sore about him leaving. As he slides his shirt back over his shoulders, he realizes the missing buttons will be difficult to explain to his wife. He'll have to keep his coat closed till he can get changed.

The detective slips his shoes back on and leans down, placing a soft kiss to the side of the other man's face. "Thank you for the lovely……'tour', mister March." He smirks, tipping his head to the hotel owner on his way out the door.

John makes his way down the hall, whistling the whole way, even on the elevator ride down. 

He's coming down off his buzz, but still on the high of his orgasm. He feels a weight lifted and has a huge goofy smirk, plastered on his handsome face.

The elevator doors open and John steps out into the lobby. He decides to stop back into the bar for one more quick drink. A scotch and a smoke sounds delightful right now. 

Liz gives him a smirk as he approaches the bar. She'd recognize that glow anywhere. Apparently, mister March got what he wanted, once again. However, this one must be something special, because he's lived to tell the tale.

She pours the drink for him, before he can even open his mouth, and hands it to him, with a wink.

"Thank you, miss." John raises the glass and takes a sip. 

He places a cigarette between his lips and reaches for his lighter. Liz beats him to it though. He looks up when he hears a click and sure enough, she's holding her zippo up to his smoke.

John inhales deeply, allowing it to light, before blowing the smoke out with a smile. 

He pulls out a stool and takes a seat, watching Liz make a drink for one of the other patrons. His eyes wonder over to the wall behind the bar. There are a bunch of old looking photographs hanging up. One in particular, catches his eye.

The detective gulps and sets his drink down, standing up, to move behind the bar for a closer look. Liz is pouring drinks at the other end and doesn't notice.

He leans in closely, at a picture of what appears to be the Hotel staff including March. The picture's in black and white and looks very old, but that's not the most suspicious part. It's what it reads : Hotel Cortez, 4th Of July Ball, 1925.

'Surely this is a joke.' He chuckles to himself. Although he notices all the other pictures through the years hanging next to it. March is only in the pictures up to nineteen twenty six.

He's still in disbelief, so he pull out his phone and fumbles as he Google's James Patrick March Hotel Cortez.

John gasps at the articles and pictures his eyes are met with. Surely it can't be. He keeps scrolling, page after page and just gets the same thing over and over. March's obituary, the news headlines of his murders. 

The detective can't feel his face. He drops his phone and Liz and the other patrons all turn and look as it smashes the ground with a loud clank.

"What have I done….."

**Author's Note:**

> We may continue this. We shall see.


End file.
